A Complete, yet Imperfect Life
by Legendary Biologist
Summary: Brandon reflects on his profession as a hitman.


**A COMPLETE, YET IMPERFECT LIFE**

 **A/N: The setting is at some point during the timeskip between episode 6 and 7. As for Harry, everything is based on episode 7.**

 **All disclaimers apply.**

* * *

I tear people's hearts with bullets.

The target will feel a brief pain when I fire my gun, but those who are left behind won't. They will feel hurt for a long time, and if it gets any worse, they can die.

Which is why I hate my profession. I murder a designated man, hurt and possibly harm his family, and get paid for it.

It is such a lowly job.

But why am I still a hitman?

* * *

"Your eyes are red," Bear says in a low, rumbling voice.

I look down. "Tear gas."

It's a lie, and it's not a good thing. But how can you be honest to your superior? In a crime organization, a soft heart will do no good, especially if you're a killer. In the mean time, you _cry_ silently after murdering your target just because you feel bad for those who are left behind.

"I see." Bear's voice lightens up a little. "Never mind. Take a day off tomorrow."

Day off? As much as I hate my job, I'm not sure if I need that. For unknown reasons, my day feels incomplete without working.

I look up at Bear's stern face, wanting to voice my feelings and ask for a better suggestion. But I don't think I can. What is he? What am I?

It's better for me to keep quiet and wait.

"You need it, Brandon." Bear places a hand on my shoulder. "Take care."

* * *

People often say that spending some time with your friend, especially your best friend, can relieve your stress. I think it is true.

Today, I have lunch with a happy Harry. Listening to his nonstop brags puts a small smile on my long face.

"I love my job. I forge famous paintings, sell them at high price, and get big profit."

Harry's job is not good, but it is much better than mine. It is dishonest, but it doesn't make people miserable; heck, even if it does, it will never be as terrible as how killing hurts people. It doesn't take away the backbone of a family.

"Sometimes I work overtime and get a headache, but hey, it's worth it!" He snickers. "I get about everything I want: good food, sport cars, big houses, and ladies. I bet if business keeps going so well, I'll get promoted, too!"

Harry delights me because he enjoys his life, but I do wish that he could show some attention to other people, too.

Life is still incomplete if you don't think of others, right?

I guess so.

I don't know why, but all of a sudden, I just smirk.

Maybe I am about to know why I am still a hitman.

* * *

Big Daddy suddenly calls and invites me to go fishing with him. That idea sounds good to me, since I feel like something is missing if I spend my whole day sitting idly at home.

Besides, you can never say 'no' to your boss' invitation.

As Big Daddy casts his fishing line into the lake, he mutters, "I heard from Bear. You've over-stressed yourself."

Busted. He'll be very upset for sure. Well, which godfather won't be disappointed when he finds a tender-hearted hitman working under him? And worse, that murderer has told a lie to hide his soft heart.

I bow in shame. If Big Daddy gets mad at me, I deserve it.

"I understand, Brandon."

He isn't angry?

I raise my head a little to look at him.

He smiles at me. "We cry sometimes."

I can't help but let out a sheepish grin. I am glad that he isn't upset, but I still feel a tad guilty for lying.

"Anyway, it's okay to kill," he continues. "You know? I won't hesitate to kill people if they ever pose a threat. I just want to protect the people I love." He pauses. "Still remember the incident at the business meeting years ago? You wouldn't want to know how I cleared the way to make sure that you got to the hospital fast."

I remember.

I am now one step closer to learning why I kill.

At that meeting, I fired a gun and murdered a man for the first time. Everything happened so fast; I didn't know why I suddenly had the urge to pick up a pistol from a corpse, jump into the commotion between Big Daddy and a mobster, and shoot somebody dead. Only when I had more time to think and observe could I make an assumption. When I came around in a hospital and saw a tearful Big Daddy sitting beside my bed, I thought the instinct actually came from seeing the man pointing a gun at him. I didn't want my beloved boss to die, so I threw myself into the line of fire and dispatched the goon.

"Killing is not bad if you do it for others' sake," Big Daddy suddenly says. "For example, you shot that goon to protect me. You saved both me and the syndicate. I mean, just try to imagine what would happen to our organization if I were dead."

I nod and smile. Now, I know why I am and will always be a hitman.

I kill to protect the people I love.

* * *

Being a hitman isn't bad, but it isn't good either. In the eyes of my friends and superiors, I am an angel, but in the eyes of others, I am a devil.

I tear people's hearts with bullets to protect the people _I_ love.


End file.
